The home of RobL...

Well another hectic bike week over for another year!

Epic Glamour Ride with about 35 fabulously dressed people turning up: Owen's pics

Youtube - Glamour at the South Bank!

See if you can guess which one I am...

Would you like some toast?

Hmm.

Received shiny new laptop complete with MS office licence key. The delivery man handed over two boxes. One was the laptop, and another large box which turned out to be the MS office licence key.

Fujitsu standard packaging?

After two boxes, bubble wrap, an envelope and another smaller card, the licence key is the size of a credit card. No CD or anything else!



So, the whole thing could have been sent via e-mail or processed online with a little imagination then?

Sigh.

0/10 to Fujitsu.

Does anybody still use orkut

Looked again today and its actually got quite slick. A bit like Facebook but without all the annoying poop and advertising.

Borrowed the Christiania to transport my stuff home from LINX in style.



There is a bit of a knack to steering this beastie. It is a bit like cycling a sofa or something.

As Gerry put it:"Christiania's ample bosoms" - So I have decided that it is a she...

She holds up to 100kg. This particular model is the wheelchair transporter version, and has an access ramp (pulls out from underneath) and its original job was moving wheelchair users around - in a fun way - and she may do that again some day. For the time being she is used to lug a great quantity of stuff around, and for occasional trips to the tip to get rid of garden waste and bits.

Wheeled her out of her hiding place to discover one of the tyres had gone down... had not been used in a while, so we had to do a last minute puncture repair. Caroline produced some rather huge motorbike tyre levers specially for the purpose...

christianiabikes.com

Many years ago, I got to have a go on one of these machines... at a print finishing company in Reading.


Well... I say had a go this involved minding the machine during my work experience placement, and taking the finished items off the conveyor and loading onto a pallet - quickly and sorting out the occasional misfeed and pressing the big blue start button.

It goes in one end as one huge, cleverly printed sheet and is cunningly folded this way and that, to make a book. Then the folds are cut off to form the pages, before being dropped onto a conveyor to be stapled.

Cool machine, but perhaps a little big for my house. (and what you cannot tell from the video is that it is insanely noisy, like a sort of " klakkety klakkety klakkety...."

As anyone who has visited me will know, sometime last year I bought a paper folding machine for the cycling newsletters, as I got fed up with folding thousands of the things.

Maybe one day my cycling newsletter mini print works in my living room will evolve? Hmm...

Yesterday I got some post. In the real mail! That wasn't junk or bills... (shock!)

There was a large envelope containing a musical Valentines card!

Nothing written in it.

So...

It would seem that somebody loves me. But not enough to put sufficient postage stamps on the envelope. TO PAY... 1.06p. (6p under. 1.00 handling fee.)

In other news, there have been a group of decorators in my flat since Tuesday. They are very hard working Bulgarians. They turn up at 08.30 in the morning and do not stop filling, sanding and painting and sanding and painting, more sanding and more painting, until about 18.00, when they can sand and paint no more.

They appear to be doing a very good job so far. The place is in a little bit of chaos but not too much. (Stuff is in odd rooms etc.) It smells of paint.

I am hiding in the lounge.

Some may have noticed that, it has been rather snowy these past few days.

A while ago, I volunteered (and some of the other wheelers) to help out today handing out leaflets and bike bells along the canal towpath this morning, to support British Waterways' "Two Tings" campaign, along the Regent's Canal. Two Tings

This year, British Waterways have insourced this work rather than hiring an outside agency to run things for them. Two shiny new people have been hired as Towpath Rangers to coordinate activities along all of London's towpaths.

We had agreed to meet at 07:30 at Johnson's Lock, near Mile End. Not far from my house, but still a few miles to pedal. Now, given the recent snow and freezing weather, I had thought that possibly, maybe, they might have decided not to bother. Gerry had called me to say she had been down on the towpath the previous evening and it had been very dodgy and icy, and had to walk with the bike.

Anyway, This morning called one of the Towpath Rangers to see if it was still on, looking at the gloom out of the window, kinda hoping that maybe they had decided against, and I could have some more time under the duvet.

"Yes... it is still on.. we are here now!" replied a chirpy voice. "Not many cyclists though... We have coffee..."

Far too chirpy and enthusiastic for 7am, I thought!

I had also been wondering if any of the other three people who had volunteered were going to show up, but didn't like to call them at 7AM. If they turn up, great. If not... then I completely understand and will let them off this once. I optimistically packed 100 newsletters.

Donned my long johns, three layers of tops, thick trousers, gloves and thick coat, and headed out towards the lock as far as possible on the roads until Mile End Park, which I had to walk across as it was incredibly icy.

The sloping path from the park down to the towpath was covered in ice and looked far too treacherous that I had to tack down the grassy bank to get on to the towpath with the bike. Cycled for a short distance until a perilously treacherously icy bit for about 200m, and had to walk, pushing the bike.

Spotted the two guys (Brian and Joe) at the lock, which itself was quite clear of ice. "I would like to say good morning" but just.... "Morning!" I said, propping the bike up, as it started to rain.

Needless to say, we did not get many leaflets handed out. Not many people brave enough to try the towpath this morning! Maybe 20 people passed us, and were quite surprised to see three slightly soggy people standing there, handing out slightly soggy leaflets.

I admired Joe's spiffing new bike trailer as Brian poured me a coffee. We had a good chat about this and that. Brian had come from Hounslow... that is dedication.. Hounslow is like the other end of the world from here!

A few people came and went and we chatted to them about the towpath! None of the other volunteers, or the community support people appeared... but I can't say I blame them!

9.30 approached slowly. After some discussion, Brian and Joe thought it would be best to go to the Lock office at Limehouse Marina, warm up a bit, and dump stuff there. They also thought it may be better to go via the road, rather than attempting the towpath, but were not 100% sure of the route, so I cycled with them back down to Limehouse. They invited me in to the (rather posh!) lock office at Limehouse for a coffee.

Then I had to say my farewells and head out for my long awaited shopping trip on Oxford street... But that is another story!

Visit from gas safety inspector this morning, Has condemned the cooker, which has been on its last legs for a while.

I am writing this after the fact, as I have had some well-wishers (and just nosey parkers) wanting to know exactly how I ended up in A&E on Tuesday 20th, an experience which was interesting but not one I have any desire to repeat any time soon!

Anyway, about 9PM, decided I was peckish and set about rustling up something to eat. Chicken Kiev and some potato things went in the oven and duly fished out about half an hour later and chucked on a plate. Went into the lounge to enjoy my lovely meal and select some rubbish on the telly to watch.

Two bites in to my meal, and I started to choke on something. Much coughing and spluttering and trying to slap myself to dislodge offending article into the bathroom sink. Eventually managed to cough up something and start breathing again, but still felt like there was something stuck in my throat, and I was unable to really talk, or swallow. Attempt to drink water resulted in water just being coughed up everywhere, followed by more coughing etc, and blood.

After a few minutes of this and being unsure really of what to do now, I knocked frantically on my neighbour's door to see if there was anybody about. Like many in London, I've never really met my neighbours, so I had no idea who they were, or how they would react to some crazy guy banging on their door unable to speak but choking. A couple answered the door and saw my plight "Help!" I spluttered. One tried slapping me on the back, which did not do anything, and the other suggested I try eating butter. I did not think this was a particularly good idea, given my experience with the water. Returned to the bathroom to cough up lots of blood down the sink. Got the phone and handed it to them... better call for an ambulance, they agreed. Being foreign and not native English speakers, did not necessarily know the number to call. I dialled 999 and handed the phone back.

Some time later, ambulance arrives. Not sure exactly how long it took, but not all that long, maybe about 7 or 8 minutes. Neighbour flags down the ambulance outside, and ambulance man comes in to see me in the bathroom, still coughing up blood. Slaps me on the back between the shoulder blades really hard but does not do anything. Eventually am carted away in the ambulance to the Royal London. In the ambulance not able to talk as they are asking me what my name is, age, what have I eaten etc. Motioned for them to give me the clipboard and filled out the bits of the form. Seemed easier than trying to talk.

Some discussion on arrival at hospital about exactly what they should do with me? Whilst clearly no longer at immediate risk of dying, I was in some distress and not a minor case. I am given a seat and one of those cardboard trays to cough into. Charge nurse flags down consultant who signs some bits of paper and recommends taking me into resus and given a nebuliser of adrenaline and lignicaine (I think) and writes the required dosages.

I am shown into a rather battered looking, small resus room that has seen better days and directed to a trolley in one of the bays. Resus seems empty apart from me. There is equipment everywhere. Nurses swap my t-shirt for a hospital gown, rig me up to a monitor and there is some confusion over the exact dosages of what I should be given. "Was it 5 of one and 2 of the other, or 5 of each? Has this been given already? Who wrote this up?" I hear them saying.

Another doctor appears and starts again. Eventually a mask is put on me, and I see a nurse draw up this massive syringe, waving it about... "are you sure this is right? Do I give him all of this?" More checking exactly what dose of what has been signed off by which doctors. Nebuliser started and I am a little relived when the nurse appears with a smaller syringe and puts the contents into the nebuliser.

This is mostly very cold, but has the effect of making my lips, nose and face go numb, while not really numbing my throat. The idea, the doctor explains, is that they will attempt to get a lyringoscope down and take a look. He wields this contraption which looks like some sort of torture implement, and tries to stick it down my throat. Gets so far until I start to gag and cough uncontrollably. Tries two more times with not much luck, but this time wearing an eye mask as he did not enjoy having me spluttering into his face.

X-Rays are requested. A short woman appears wheeling in this impossibly large and heavy looking "portable" x-ray machine and rigs it up. which seems to be the cue for everybody else to hide. Chest x-ray and one from the side. She tells me to sit this way and hold this and sit still etc, then puts the plates into a machine and disappears, trundling the x-ray machine with her. A few minutes later, doctors are poring over the x-rays on the screen. I hear one of them explaining to a junior doctor. Then they are looking at anatomy references and head-scratching. "Seems a bit low down" they agree. What is low down? I wonder. They explain that they cannot seem to see any offending bit of chicken in my throat.

Consultant - Tim, appears again, seeming a bit baffled that I am still here, coughing away. "Try the spray again." A chap that has been stabbed arrives and is wheeled in the next bay. Police appear and hang about. A doctor tells one of them off for getting in the way.

X-Ray woman appears. Everybody hides in my bay while the x-rays happen next door. I note that his x-rays looked a lot more impressive than mine.

A vile tasting anaesthetic spray is tried, which burns my throat like hell, I do my best to try and swallow it, but my throat just rejects the idea. Several tries all with same result. Tim gets impatient and attacks me with the evil spray again. My mouth, tongue, half my face, lips are now completely numb, but not, it seems the offending bit of my throat. Try again with the lyringoscope. Yuck. More spray is tried, but I resist. More nebuliser is tried to kill my throat. This time, an endoscope thing is stuck up my nose and down my throat. Can only seem to go so far until my throat starts protesting again. "Right. Let's try 5 of Morphine" A nurse puts a line in my arm, and in goes the morphine, which was interesting.

Then things are a bit hazy. I remember hyperventilating and not being able to move. Then a paper bag is held over my nose and mouth for a bit. I think they knocked me out at some point, as the next thing I remember is them explaining that they have had a good look down my throat and cannot see anything, but that there are some burst blood vessels and what looks like a scratch. They keep me in resus, pinching my eyelids, until my breathing calms down and I am answering their questions again.

I am then wheeled into a dark ward, rather interestingly named "Clinical Decision Unit" and helped into a chair, where I spend the rest of the night occasionally spluttering into cardboard dish! Am very tired and incredibly hungry, unable to swallow anything.

There is a drunk opposite who in between snoring loudly, falling out of the bed while attempting to get out, and muttering, makes repeated visits to the toilet, each time asking the nurse where the toilet is. "You should know that by now... you've been there enough times." the nurse responds.

Since I am sat right next to the nurses' station, I can hear their various discussions. Apparently this guy is a frequent flyer. It is discovered that en-route to the toilet he is apparently drinking the green alcohol based "MRSA/C.Diff" hand wash. "Don't drink the green stuff" he is told, sternly.

I ask for a blanket at maybe 5AM as I am freezing.

After receiving excellent care in resus, I am more or less completely ignored in CDU. The nurses chat loudly about such subjects as the lack of biscuits and the inefficiency of the catering department, and how their new system apparently does not work. There are several phones ringing. A long phone call about where some test results were, and apparently some blood samples that had been sent off somewhere but had clotted en-route. Many more discussions and phone calls about who was to blame for this continued into the night. Every other doctor/nurse who appears is asked for their opinion. I hear the BloodGate story explained about five times.

Wednesday morning...

Much loud discussion about breakfast and that not enough of various things have been sent up by catering. Breakfast is slowly served, consisting of bread and butter, tea and cereal. I decline the offer as I am unable to swallow even water.

Eventually another doctor appears and thinks I should be discharged. I ask if they can say when they think I will be able to swallow again. I wait, and wait. Eventually a consultant appears and suggests that an ENT doctor take a look. Some time passes before they discover that the ENT doctor that comes is only looking at paediatric cases, and that I would have to make my way to Barts. They suggested a taxi. Getting to Barts was going to be interesting as I had only my house keys (which the ambulance man took care to grab) and no money on me.

I call a taxi from reception, and with some difficulty speaking, explain where I want to go. Taxi has to take me all the way home so I can pick up some money to pay said taxi, then go to Barts, cardboard spittoon in hand. I get home and note that the oven is still on, as well as the TV and lights etc. Dig out my phone and wallet, cough up some gunge and go back to the taxi.

From the taxi, spotted Andy F cycling along Cable Street. Call from Nicci in the cab, explained with a croaky voice and between spits, what had been going on.

A long taxi ride (after he drives the long way) and 30 quid later, I arrive at Barts for a long sit in a waiting room. Eventually am seen by ENT nurse, and doctor. They look at my x-rays and conclude that it is a bit low down. I wonder what. They explain that where my trachea and esophagus split, is a bit lower down than usual. Another endoscope thing up my nose and down my throat. Apparently, I have a very curved epiglottis. Throat feeling better now, and I can just about swallow again, which is reassuring.

A bit of hassle over a prescription and trying to find if anybody in the hospital has any of these tablets. Am handed a prescription that the hospital pharmacy (at the other end of the hospital, down a long corridor) then refuses to accept. Return to get the right bit of paper. The doctor eventually returns and writes prescription on a different pad. I head off to the pharmacy again and hand over 7.10 for three tablets. Am told it will be a half hour wait. I am quite knackered by this point and just want to sleep. Suddenly, all the lights go off and after a while, some of them come back on again, in some freak power outage. The pharmacist then explains that I will have to wait even longer as their computers are now down and they are not able to dispense anything.

Having the original green prescription in my pocket, I asked if they could just give me my money back, and I will go to a high street pharmacy instead. Eventually handed the money back and I located a nearby Boots. The pharmacist there explains that these tablets are available off the shelf and I don't need a prescription. I pay about 4 quid for 20 tablets and head home. Flop into bed and sleep for a long time!